When All Is Lost
by Corinne Jane
Summary: There are horrors in this world that are just too evil to see. Too evil for the mind to comprehend, it's only when the mind tries to rationalize it that you go slightly crazy. Some evil just haunts you until you wither and die. Gibbs, Kort Frenemies!
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I own nothing! Nothing! Well besides this laptop and a brain as well. And a love for Trent Kort. **

**Author's Note: I am a Trent Kort lover, he is definitely one of my all time favorite characters. And soon after learning that Trent Kort doesn't approve of Torture this idea popped into my head. We don't know much about Kort, which is why it's so fun to play around with him. But what we do know can definitely be played around with. I wanted to know why Trent was so opposed to torture. If something happened to him so I decided I'd write this. Now, I am writing this as a friendship, or Frenemy fic. So there is no slash. I actually JUST re-found this in my documents, I wrote this months ago and never posted it. Any suggestions leave it in a review. :) Anything that you think would be cool to happen or interesting leave it in a review. :)**

**So that leads me to this--PLEASE REVIEW.**

**Thank you.**

12:30 AM.

The night sky was pitch black, as if God had accidentally poured ink all over the evening's blue canvas. The wind whistled through the empty air, caressing itself it howled in agony at the loss of something to love, something to touch, to hold, to carry away. It's reality depended on another's. A bitter laugh tore through the night air, ripping a hole in the deafening silence that had enveloped it. Sitting in a rumbling car at the top of a cliff was Trent Kort, a bottle of scotch pressed to his lips. He looked out into the darkness resentment and bitterness etched in every line of his face, his eyes seeing terrible things in the night sky; things he'd never forget. A distant look of pain flashed in the back of his dark eyes as he took another swig of the scotch that burned his throat and lit a fire in his stomach. He felt the gas pedal under his foot gently stepping on it.

He could do it, it wouldn't exactly be a quick death but it was one that would hide his secrets. If he blew out his brains they'd know he killed himself, they'd dig and dig until they finally found the reason why. And nobody could know that, nobody could ever know. All he had to do was to back up a bit and step on the pedal and it would be over. He wouldn't have to wake up everyday hoping to get shot, or struggling to just pull the trigger himself. He wouldn't ever hear their screams again, he'd no longer wake up at the same time every night from the same nightmare; he wouldn't have to lie anymore. All his fake lives would be over, he would know who he was again. He was nobody, that was easy to remember, and when you're nobody it's so easy to make yourself into something that you're not. You give yourself an identity, you tell yourself this is your job, this is your temperament and this is your social class. Before you know it you have a whole new personality, motives and perspective. He was everything to everyone, he could make himself into anything anyone needed him to be. Which is why he never dated, because he knew he could make himself into the perfect man for any girl that may be interested but if you played a role too long you assimilate, you lose yourself and become what you're pretending.

If you can deceive yourself, you can deceive the world. It wasn't so hard, it was a lot easier then the media portrayed it; you just lie, about the small things and the big things, you keep lying until one day you look back and you don't know what really happened, you lie so much that truth is nothing more than another lie. And when you realize you can no longer tell what's real and what's not, that's when you start thinking that you may be crazy. Lying comes natural to you, in fact it's your first response when someone asks you a question even a simple one like "How are you?" Yet people like you, or at least, they like the lies. You begin to wonder if you're considered normal by people, then how many liars like you are out there? You start doubting everything, investigating someone's story, reading body language. You become paranoid until you can't even believe when someone tells you that they love you. You live in a lie, you live a lie, and your whole being is a lie. And you just build on the lie more everyday you survive.

But he couldn't go one lying anymore, not because someone found out, but because he saw someone who already knew. Someone who knew him long before he put his mask up, before any more then innocent lies, some for attention others to cover up mistakes, could get a hold on him. Someone who knew his deepest darkest secrets; knew them because he had the starring role in the living and dreaming nightmare that was his life. Suddenly screams pierced the night and Kort jerked out of his reverie, twisting his head around, looking back and forth trying to see where they had come from, the screaming got louder and louder, pleas for mercy raising up from the valley below him. He gripped the steering wheel as he heard them begging for him to stop, for them to stop. He could hear his own voice pleading with the insane professor, getting louder and louder until they filled the valley and were flooding into his car. Dropping the scotch he clutched at his head, leaning forward he rested his head against the steering wheel and hit his palms on the dashboard. Screaming at them to stop, for everyone to shut up, looking up slightly he watched as a rain drop hit the windshield, he breathed in deeply, trying to block out the deafening screams that were fading into the background. He focused on the sound of the raindrops hitting the car, the gentle metallic pitter patter of water trying to breach the steel defenses of his car.

The rain soon drowned out the sound of any past misery that had risen up in the dark night, guilt engulfing him he could hear his old professors voice whispering clearly to him as if he was sitting right next to him, "You weakling. You killed them all. Killed them! Now what use are they to us, you took the easy way out, now they all must suffer. Now you must suffer. Murderer." He breathed in and took a quick glance over to the passenger seat; it was empty. He closed his eyes tightly, searching for the bottle of scotch in the dark, fumbling he turned on all the lights. He bent down retrieving the bottle, as he brought it to his lips he glanced outdoors and shouted. Standing in front of his car was his old professor grinning menacingly with a hand on the hood, without a second thought Trent put the car in reverse and hit the gas, Shifting it into drive he hit the gas again, as he reached the professor he screamed, taking out his gun and shooting through the windshield. Blind anger and despair tearing his sanity to pieces, the image of the professor flickered and disappeared, Trent blinked and before he could hit the brakes he went flying off the edge of the cliff. He opened his mouth to scream but nothing came out, his car nose dived into the valley, the wind howling as the ground rushed to meet him, but all he could hear were the cries of the children and the screams of agony from within their souls.

He screamed one more plea for silence before his car collided head on with the ground, jerking him forward in his seat, his head bashing off the steering wheel, he wheezed as the breath was knocked out of him, the seat belt digging into him, burning his chest. He winced as it caused him pain his head spinning. He flipped open his phone, and pressed speed dial, cringing he listened to it wringing, the static on the phone sounded strangely like whispering.

"Gibbs." He heard a distant voice say irritably over the phone.

"Gibbs…." He said voice laced with pain and alcohol. His arm broken through the windshield, head bleeding, left ankle broken, neck killing him. Broken glass embedded in him all over, he couldn't move or see out of his right eye.

"Kort is that you?" Gibbs asked

"Crashed. Tried hitting professor, but……he wasn't really there……head hurts…..the screaming….they won't stop screaming Gibbs…" He gasped out.

"Kort where are you?" Ignoring the gibberish.

"I don't know." He slurred, his vision swimming, "Gibbs, I'm sorry, tell them, tell them all I'm sorry."

"Tell who Kort?" Gibbs said, snapping at McGee to get the GPS location of his cell.

"The children, Gibbs, the children. Tell them I'm sorry. I didn't mean, I never meant, never would have…I was somebody else. I couldn't save them, I tried, I tried so hard to save them….I had to kill them, I had to kill them all." He muttered his mind spinning, seeing their faces flash before his eyes, each of them lying broken on the floor, blood every where's, their unseeing eyes staring lifelessly at the ceiling, naked and abused.

"No…NO! Gibbs, you gotta save them, leave me and save them, before he gets them, before he takes them!" He shouted over the phone.

"Kort what are you talking about? I'm coming, we got your coordinates, stay where you are, we're on our way!" Gibbs shouted over the phone.

"But the children…..save the children…" He whimpered over the phone as more of their bodies appeared in front of him, without eyes, just empty sockets with blood pouring out of them, they pointed their fingers and whispered their torture to him, making him relive every moment, blaming him for everything.

He felt around for his gun, ready to blast them away. He nearly panicked when he couldn't find it, before he realized he tossed it aside after shooting out the window, grimacing he grabbed it and began shooting, he blinked as the bullets seemed to go through them, in the background he could hear shouts, could hear the footsteps coming down the hill but he kept shooting regardless. He could feel the gun burning him, the pain shooting up his arm, he saw someone's hand grabbing the gun from his hands, he could feel them unbuckling him but he couldn't tear his eyes away from the little three year old girl with honey colored hair and no eyes that was handing him flowers and telling him to stick these on her grave for her. He went limp as he felt hands pulling him out of the vehicle, he was soon staring up at Gibbs and Ducky, who had a flashlight in his hands.

"I'm alright Dr. Mallard, my head just hit the steering wheel is all. Got a few broken bones. Can't move right eye" He responded in a monotone. His vision clearing up, and the pounding in his head becoming more pronounced. He sucked in air, as he came back to the present, his senses tingling and going into overdrive, the cold, the wet, the pain in his skull, the ache in his upper torso and throughout his body, and the misery that was drowning him inside.

"Gibbs I still don't like you." He said blatantly.

"Same here Kort, same here." Gibbs said as he hoisted him up as Ducky gave the ok. Gibbs supported him up the incline and into his car, ignoring Dinozzo's questions and Ziva's look he got behind the wheel and sped off at a slower the normal Gibbs-rate.

"Someone push you off the road Kort? Perhaps one of those enemies of yours?" Gibbs asked lightly, smirking.

"Yeah you can say that. But it's a mutual thing really. Turns out he wasn't really there." Kort said shivering.

"If he wasn't there how could he push you off the cliff?" Gibbs said.

"I drove off it, because of him, he played with my mind Gibbs, the guys some kind of voodoo god." He said seriously. Gibbs chuckled.

"Where are the children Trent?" Gibbs said suddenly, looking over at him seriously.

"I can't tell you that Jethro." He said silently, trying to not let the memories flood back again.

"Kort I swear to god if this has to do with some mission I'm goin--" Gibbs started heatedly

"It has nothing to do with the job! They're dead, all of them! Because I killed them! I KILLED THEM ALL!" He screamed, pounding the dashboard. Gibbs looked at him with rage in his eyes.

"How many kids did you kill Trent?" Gibbs seethed.

"Fifty. The oldest being ten. The youngest was a three month old." He said quietly, shaking as he imagined just letting Gibbs kill him.

"Why?" Gibbs said angrily, not really wanting an answer.

"Because I had to, it was the only way to free them, it was the only way they wouldn't suffer anymore." He said numbly.

"What was going on Kort?" Gibbs said softly, glancing at him.

"Professor Jerek, my instructor at Langley, the one Ducky knows as Mr Pain, and I were put on a mission together to draw out terrorists. Jerek and I kidnapped their children after spying on them for a few days, we'd take their kids, and their nieces and nephews and little cousins, their wives. Anything at all that would draw them out. We kept them in an old abandoned prison. I watched as he tortured the babies and raped the younger children, I waited in the darkness until he was gone and then I shot them. I didn't even try to help them escape, didn't try to help their injuries--they weren't life threatening. I just killed them. I killed them all." He said

"You've been drinking." Gibbs stated hoarsely. Keeping his eyes on the road.

"My memory isn't faulty, I remember, I can't forget. I know what happened Jethro." He spat viciously. "Kill me for what I've done."

"No." Gibbs said.

"No? What do you mean no?!" He shrieked.

"You did what you thought was right."

"I killed fifty children!"

"To save them from torture."

"What if one of those children had been Kelly? Would you be so understanding then?" He taunted cruelly.

Gibbs remained silent, but he could see the fury swirling in Gibbs' eyes. "Exactly. I didn't want to save those kids. None of them. I wanted them dead. You know what the plan was? Get the terrorists kill them, then kill the kids too. Make sure they don't grow up to be like their parents. We were gonna kill them all along." He started laughing hysterically.

It was then that the air seemed to get thinner, his lungs refused to cooperate with his brain, he clutched at the door handle and gasped, his breath coming out of his mouth like smoke--visible for all to see. "What? Who's here?" Trent said loudly, panic in his voice, he looked in the review mirror the three year old girl with the flowers sat in the backseat swinging her legs and grinning. She hummed the bridal song, with each note blood made it's way down her chin, dripping onto the seat in a steady rhythm. She wore an American dress, sleeveless, shiny silver satin top with sparkles, a waist band that was white and the bottom half of the dress was lacy and cotton, purple and bright green. She had no shoes on, her feet and face were dusty. Except for the blood that dripped from her mouth and her two empty eye sockets. His breath hitched in his chest causing him to choke slightly.

"You see her Gibbs?" He asked breathlessly, still trying to breathe.

"See who Kort? No one to see but us two." Gibbs spoke firmly.

"I'm going crazy. I'm seeing dead people Gibbs!" He said looking back at the little girl. "What was your name?"

"Lilith." She answered, her voice sounded like wine glasses clinking together.

"I kill you Lilith?"

"Yeah. You left our bodies there and ran. Maggots ate my eyes, my beautiful green eyes. You know some of us were still alive. Like Ardana. She was alive until the maggots came."

"Oh god." His stomach churned.

"Stop talking to her Kort!" Gibbs growled. "She's not there."

Closing his eyes he put his head between his knees. He let the silence rock him into calmness before straightening up. He was about to crack an inappropriate joke but when he looked over it wasn't Gibbs at the wheel but a dead body of a twenty year old girl. She looked like Lilith but older, she was slumped over the wheel. He grabbed her, ignoring her yelp, and grabbed the wheel swerving it to throw Lilith out of the seat.

"Kort what the fuck are you doing?!" He heard Gibbs shout but he didn't know where it was coming from he looked all around trying to find him, ignoring the road and Lilith as she pleaded for her life, looking down he saw the girl put her hands into her sockets and pull out her brains, he screamed. It echoed in the car and then onto the road. Then with the sound of shattering glass and cthe crunching and tearing of metal, silence reigned.


	2. Chapter 2

The wheels of the car spun in the air, the front end smashed and crumpled against a tree. Groaning he shook his head, grimacing as he did so--it felt like waves of needles were attacking the inside of his skull trying to get out. Groaning he assessed his injuries, his head killed him telling him he probably had a concussion, his arm throbbed but looked normal he probably fractured it, besides his previous injuries he practically came out of this car crash with merely bruises. Two car crashes within an hour of each other, just how unlucky could a person get? Grumbling about how dead people should stay dead he turned his attention to the unconscious person next to him. Gibbs sat slumped over the wheel his left arm twitching, Kort frowned as undid his seat belt and kicked open the door. Stumbling out he held onto the car for support, his body shook as his head pounded, gritting his teeth he limped over to the other side and struggled to open Gibbs' door. Cursing he crawled back to his side and got back in the car.

He knew he had to get Gibbs out of the car, he could smell gas, and that either led to carbon monoxide poisoning or instant death by explosion. Growling he fought the buckle, no matter how hard he hit it it refused to open, taking out his knife he began saw through the belt, praying that the car wouldn't blow up in the mean time. He should be running for cover not sitting here waiting to blow up! He was being foolish trying to save someone else when they both may very well die, but Gibbs was his ticket to freedom and if he died so did his chances of ever finding peace. Cussing over his rotten luck he finally felt the belt give, now he had to do the second strap and drag him out. He heard a hissing noise and cursed, gas was pouring out faster, he didn't dare look up, the car was surrounded by the dead children, all with dirt caked on them, like they had crawled out of the grave, blood pooled at their feet, their brains leaked out of their empty eye sockets as they sang a funeral song, the older ones giggled and taunted him about blowing up. Saying how pretty the fire would be. Lilith sat on the hood, leaning against the tree smiling, her two hands cupped together peering down into her own blood.

"Mother fucker." He growled as the belt finally gave loose sending his own knife flying into his hand. Ignoring the cut he grabbed a handful of Gibbs coat and pulled him. Kort struggled out of the car falling on the ground, Gibbs on top of him. "Only marine who can't stay fucking conscious in a car accident but is perfectly fine in a war. Fucking Gibbs." He snarled even though deep down he knew it was his fault the car had crashed in the first place. He just hoped Gibbs wasn't as bad as DiNozzo had been at the loss of his car, if that was the case the old man could stay in the car. He pushed Gibbs off of him, alleviating the feeling of being crushed and gaining the ability to breath once more, cringing from his aching injuries he wrapped an arm tightly and securely around Gibbs' chest and began dragging them both towards the trees, grunting as he did so, his broken ankle was not appreciating the treatment. Finally making it to the trees he breathed harshly, sharp stabbing pain shooting through his chest, he cringed, swallowing back his whimpers. Looking at Gibbs he could tell that the man's arm was dislocated and broken, glass was embedded in it and his head was bleeding, his other arm looked fine with a few cuts, his leg was twisted gruesomely, making him almost lose his lunch. He poked and prodded the NCIS Agent's rib cage and found nothing broken.

He focused on his breathing, and began to bet with himself when the car would blow and when help would come. Shivering he nudged Gibbs with his foot, trying to get him to wake up, he probably had a concussion as well and not waking up soon after one was not a good thing. Trent Kort was not about to carry Leroy Jethro Gibbs to safety, especially not to find out the man fell into a coma and wasn't going to wake up. He almost gave a audible cry of pain when he jostled his broken ankle, only to silence it when Gibbs eyes opened, he held his breath as the confusion faded away to grim understanding, Kort nearly smirked. Gibbs was stuck with Kort, both injured and out in the rain in the middle of nowhere's. This was going to be fun. Just as he thought that the car blew up, the shockwaves hit Gibbs hard, he was protected by the tree but Gibbs was only partially safe, he grabbed Gibbs and pulled him to his chest waiting the explosion out. Things finally calmed down enough for Gibbs to move away slowly.

Neither man looked at the other, Kort was just grateful Lilith, and her friends, decided to leave him alone for a while, perhaps the pain he was in had driven them away satisfied, or the explosion had blown them to bits. Perhaps he had killed them. He laughed that was a good one, really good. "It felt good. To kill them I mean. I was sick after the first two but then I made it into a game. On the positive side, at least I won." He spoke suddenly, not realizing he had spoken out loud.

"Did you now Trent? Well, perhaps the battle. Not the war." the silver-haired men said as he leaned back on the tree directly opposite from Kort.

"We'll see. Still got a lot of battles left to win. They won't pull me to my grave." He smirked, hiding the pain inside.

"Doing a damn good job trying though. Only matter of time….." Gibbs trailed off

"Gotta stay awake. Both have concussions." Kort changed the subject abruptly.

"Thanks to you." Gibbs grumbled.

"Well on the positive side NCIS will get you a new car--better one." He said biting down on his lip to stop the hiss of pain as he jostled his fractured arm.

"You really can't stop blowing things up can you?" Gibbs said, Kort smiled.

"You should try it sometimes Gibbs, it's very therapeutic." Kort drawled lazily, Gibbs smirked.

"Can you move?"

"Yes. You?" Kort asked

"Not much."

"Come on we should get on the road. Where someone can see us. Before they come back." Kort said looking around warily. He used the tree as support, only pushing off it to get to Gibbs, grabbing the man's good shoulder he pulled him up, the moment Gibbs put his arm around his shoulder he tensed and gave a cry of pure agony, shoving Gibbs away from him. Gibbs hit against the tree but remained standing, breathing in painfully as his bad arm remained crushed against the tree. He saw Kort moving forward towards him, his vision was blurry, but he felt the shaking hand wrap around his waist and support him as they started traveling up the steep ravine. He didn't know why he was helping this man, he could tell you all about what Gibbs could do for him in return but deep down he knew it was something more. He couldn't tell you. Just like Gibbs couldn't tell you why he was trusting Trent to take control of the situation--he'd have told you that the bastard had made the mess now he can clean it up, but that didn't mean he had to go with him to supervise. He couldn't tell you either.

They were half way there, they could see the beginnings of pavement, all was steady, hope was shining, and then the world tilted to the right and his foundation crumbled in a heap. Gibbs gasped in pain as his head hit off Kort's knee, groaning he rolled over and looked down at the man who had collapsed under his weight. Kort was pale and shivering, eyes glazed and unfocused. "Damn it!" Gibbs growled, he looked to the road, he made a split second decision, taking off his coat he threw it over Trent and turned onto his good side, he began to slowly slither up the hill, he could feel his muscles burning, his injuries flaring to life sending sharp pain the blurred his vision, weakened his resolve and made his brain foggy. He had a man down, not his man but a man nonetheless who was counting on him and he, himself, was injured. He needed to get to the road, ignoring the pain and the fog he just saw black and kept going until finally mud gave way to pavement, no longer slipping and sliding but gently gliding over the surface--he waited.

His people would notice he was gone, would trace his car's GPS and would come for them, he just hoped in time for them both to be ok. His head swam, his vision blurred once more then sharpened dramatically, every single color stood out, each object it's own sun. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up as a gentle breeze picked up, the rain freezing against him, numbing his pain as lightening touched down miles away, thunder began to rumble, he would have cursed but he was too exhausted to. The rain seemed to drive him into the ground, he closed his eyes, just for a second, he needed to rest them.

"Open your eyes Dad." a woman's voice nearby whispered into his ear, he opened his eyes, his word swirling and tilting before righting itself once more. He looked up into the face of a pretty young woman, in her mid-twenties, auburn hair, innocent blue eyes, a tender smile upon her face. He was never given the chance to see her like this before but he recognized his daughter immediately. Always would no matter what.

"K-Kelly?" He asked numbly. She smiled and he was sure of it now.

"Hey Dad." She said softly, "You don't look too good."

"Am I dying?"

"Bordering on going into a coma." She answered seriously the smile taken off her face.

"You gonna be there?" He asked her gently, love in his eyes.

"If you want me there, but Dad I don't want you to go just yet. Mister Kort needs help, he's already fallen under. He's gone to be with them, and you need to save him, to bring him back." Kelly said the spark in her eye gone, a cold frown on her face.

"What? What are you talking about?" Gibbs gasped.

"Look." She pointed down the hill at Trent, looking back Gibbs saw Kort was unconscious, he really did curse this time. "Don't let them win."

"He killed fifty children Kelly. Fifty of you. I think those kids have the right for some payback."

"They've been getting it for the past twenty years. Those kids deserved to die. They were evil." Kelly whispered sadly.

"Children never deserve to die." Gibbs spoke.

Kelly kneeled down and leaned in, her cheek against her fathers she whispered, hauntingly, "Really? Do you want to know why Trent keeps seeing Lilith? Do you want to know?" Kelly pulled back but it wasn't Kelly anymore, at least not a pretty one. Gibbs yelled and choked as he looked at his daughter, eye less, blood pouring from her empty sockets and her mouth, her skin tight around her skeletal frame, she smiled showing grey gums and no teeth, lightening struck once more and she was gone. Tears formed in his eyes, what had she meant? He didn't understand, his world was turning black his eyes drooped, he had to stay awake. He could hear somebody calling his name, felt the vibrations of them running towards him, looking up he saw his Senior Field Agent kneeling over him, still calling his name. Gibbs allowed himself, and Tony, a small smile before he ground out, "Help Kort."

DiNozzo didn't look particularly happy about it but he didn't question him, instead he went near the edge of the cliff and than questioned him, "Boss where is he?"

"He's right there DiNozzo passed out twenty feet from me."

"Boss, nothing's there. Or anywhere's. Just you and your car."


	3. Chapter 3

"WELL FIND HIM!" Gibbs bellowed across the bullpen, it had been a full day since he had last set foot in headquarters having spent the whole night in the hospital getting his dislocated and broken arm tended to and his leg put back in place. He was currently in a sling and leg brace, hobbling around one-armed trying to find Kort who had been missing for fifteen hours, God knows who took him and what they were doing to him.

"There's nothing on the security tapes, his cell isn't turned on and we haven't had a ransom call yet. There is nothing to find Gibbs." McGee said looking him in the eyes; it was in moments like these that he knew he was pushing his team too far and too hard. He sat down, trying to think of everything Kort had said to him. He suddenly looked up, a possible lead in his grasp.

"There was one other person involved in this, the man who started it all. Marcin Jerek. You find him you find Kort." Gibbs said standing up moving behind his youngest agent as he typed in the interrogators number, an address popped up seconds later, he was in his basement. He grimly remembered Tony describing Jerek's house being more stocked in weapons than the tower of London. This wasn't going to be easy--or pretty. Walking to his desk, he started suiting up.

"Evidence garage in five, I want everybody suited up with as many weapons as you can carry. Whatever you do remember fighting Marcin will be useless you either kill him or he gives himself up and you arrest him. This is a recovery mission people. Let's go." Gibbs said leading the way to the elevator.

**MARCIN JEREK.**

"Just shoot me already." Kort said, he was tied to the rafters, his hands and arms raised above his head dangling, his toes just brushed the ground. At first it had killed, his arms burned, his ribs ached, but soon the ropes made everything go numb and now all he could feel was a strange tingling and the warmth of his blood streaming down his arms and onto the floor beneath. Jerek had started right away cutting and slicing methodically to create the most pain but the less damage. The man wanted to drag out Kort's pain as long as possible, and Kort was beginning to feel the weariness in his body. Marcin had spent the entire night using him as a punching bag and cutting him. His blood was pooling on the floor rapidly, one cut to his cock had sent blood every where's, he had screamed in pure agony while Marcin laughed and said coldly, "Yes, there are a lot of blood vessels there. Did you know that?" He could feel himself shaking, and losing blood, making him feel tired and drained, his fight practically gone, but this was nothing, this was what he deserved. He killed those children, he killed them and it felt good, everything had consequences.

And his finally caught up with him. He breathed shallowly unable to take deep breaths and watched as Marcin took out a three foot long wooden crate and placed it at his feet. For a fleeting second he thought Jerek would have mercy and let him stand but that hope was killed the minute he lifted the lid of the crate. Inside was a skeleton, a three year olds skeleton, his stomach churned as bile rose in his throat and spewed from his mouth. He knew who it was, it was Lilith--his niece. He felt his throat tighten and he shut his eyes, bowing his head, he said a silent prayer. He had loved that little girl more than anything, how he wished he could have taken her away from her parents and raised her right, but the mother was an Iranian citizen, and his brother decided to stay with her, and soon enough their daughter had been taken away by the militia to be raised as one of the many children warriors that were being used as a wall of defense against the Americans. It had been their job to take them out, to infiltrate the terrorist boot camp and kill the children and their parents. He had never thought to find his precious Lily in that camp but he had and he couldn't let Marcin kill her, it wouldn't be right, it had to be him. It both pained him and brought him great joy when she immediately recognized him and ran to him with a big smile on her face, it was the first time in years that he had ever felt love for someone else. This little girl, only two and a half feet tall had made such a profound difference in his life, had brought meaning to it, the difference was night and day. And now he had to kill her. He had to kill his life, the only thing that made it worth living. He sucked it up a couple hours later, took her away from the others to a quiet room in back, sung to her, and read to her until she fell asleep against his chest. As he put the barrel of his gun to the side of her head he let his tears fall and pulled the trigger. Her blood splattering across his face, seeping into his clothing and bathing him in red. He just held her limp body to him and continued to rock as if she was just sleeping after all.

"Lily…" He gasped painfully, his heart physically hurting as tears gathered in his eyes as he stared down at the box, cursing Jerek for this.

"Ah. So you do remember." Marcin said coldly.

How could he forget? He had tried to many times but every night he dreamed it was of her, every time he saw a little girl she stood right next to him asking him if she could play with them. He had killed her. And for that there was no forgiveness, there was no punishment great enough to vindicate him of his guilt, there was blood on his hands, blood of his own kind, that would never be washed off. It was permanently stained on him, he saw her blood on him every time he looked in the mirror, every time he sat in a rocking chair, every time he sung that song. He felt the burden of his guilt, of her death, weighing him down, drowning him underneath the dark waters. Many times he held that very same gun to his head and tried pulling the trigger but he knew he didn't deserve to have such a quick death--he deserved to suffer for his sins. Marcin was just fulfilling his wishes, they both knew it, it was just convenient that the Agency considered him a threat and a liability and wanted to be rid of him. In the more permanent way. Marcin immediately signed up for the job and had been going at it enthusiastically ever since he stole him away from Gibbs in that field. He felt tears slide down his cheeks, making Marcin laugh

"Trent you were always such a disappointment. Never could do anything right no matter how hard I tried to teach you. I did try, so hard with you, perhaps if you had been more receptive to me this wouldn't be happening, none of it wouldn't have happened. Your niece might even be alive. If only you'd have listened. You put your trust and faith in morals that have failed you." Marcin said patting his cheek roughly, grinning at him, Kort shut his eyes that were filled with pain. "And now all you want is punishment. Where did you go wrong Trent?"

He could feel the tears sliding more freely down his cheeks as the words pierced him, he felt sobs rising up in him, he shook with the force of them able to get out, "I don't know. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. Lily….Professor." He whispered harshly, unable to see past his grief. Jerek just smiled as he moved behind Kort, putting a hand between his bare shoulder blades, having stripped Kort down right after hanging him from the rafters. He stared at him for a second, enjoying the knowledge that he had just broken Trent Kort, before asking, "What shall I punish you with now Trent? What do you deserve?"

"The whip. Please." He begged pathetically, the sobs and pain tightening his throat, shaking his body, making tears mix with his blood on the floor, he heard Jerek taking the tool off the shelf, he imagined how he fingered it lovingly it was one of Jerek's favorite's and Trent knew exactly how it hurt, knew it would match the emotional pain he was in. How in the world a physical whipping could ever make up for years of emotional whipping he didn't know. Jerek drew back the whip, excitement tightening his muscles, concentrating on the most painful way of doing this he brought the whip down on Kort's back. Kort gave a cry of pain as the crack of the whip echoed around the room, his back feeling the fire that seemed to be bone deep. He could feel a river of blood pouring down his back and wondered just how deep it was. Seconds later the whip was brought down across his back once more, making him jerk in his chains and cry out once more, soon the basement was filled with a steady, quick, rhythm of the crack of the whip and Kort's screams and tears. Blood covering not only the floors but now the wall and Jerek as well, the pain was excruciating and unbearable, the whip now cutting into flesh and muscles, in some places the bone could be seen. Jerek had been going at it for twenty minutes straight, he could tell Kort was about to pass out, but he gave him enough time to make sure he was awake for every second of pure agony. He no longer cried out but screamed as if his life depended on it.

It was the gory scene of a dangling Trent, his blood a huge lake on the floor, painting the walls and bathing both himself and Jerek, tears pouring down his face, shaking and sobbing and screaming, and a grinning Jerek that Gibbs and DiNozzo barged in on. The two NCIS Agents froze in shock, but quickly recovered, DiNozzo became all business while Gibbs had fire in his eyes as he pointed the gun at Jerek's head ready to blow it off at any second.

"Drop it Jerek." Gibbs growled

"What this?" Marcin held up the whip laughing, "Why? I'm not doing anything illegal, Kort wants this don't you Trent?"

He swallowed and sobbed, but nodded.

"It's his punishment. And it's sanctioned by the Agency, well the killing part not the torture but seeing as how Trent wants this….." Marcin shrugged. Gibbs stared at Trent, moving closer to him, but keeping Jerek in his line of sight.

"Punishment for what?" DiNozzo snarled disgustedly.

"Tell them Trent. Tell them what you've done. Tell them about Lilith." Jerek taunted coldly.

Trent shook his head, Jerek took his knife and laid the sharp blade on the exposed flesh and muscle on Kort's back and cut through them, causing Kort to scream and jerk around in his bindings.

"Bastard!" Gibbs growled aiming his gun once more at Jerek who just shrugged. "This ends now."

"You're right it does. I tortured him enough." With that, Marcin leapt forward with the knife, ready to stab Trent through the heart, but before he could even get a step forward, Gibbs had put a bullet in his forehead. All went silent for a minute, before DiNozzo called for an ambulance and Gibbs went over to him. He couldn't look at Gibbs, tears still were rushing out of his eyes and sobs assaulted his body, Gibbs looked as if he didn't know what to treat first.

"What did you do Trent?" Gibbs asked fiercely as he pulled a stool over to undo Kort's chains from the rafters.

"I…..I…I killed my own niece! I killed her! Murdered her! She trusted me, loved me. And I loved her, she was the only person I've ever loved. She….I…murdered her….I just put my gun on her and I…I pulled the….the…I murdered…I….I killed….I…need to die….I deserved this, you should have left, let me deal with the consequences of my actions." Kort said brokenly, his voice breaking and letting loose his pain.

Gibbs didn't speak for a while, he pushed his outrage and anger down and looked at the man in front of him. There was more to the story his gut was telling him and until he knew it, he wasn't going to judge the man and push him farther away from him. He gently lowered Kort's arms, supporting him with an arm tightly around his back, causing Kort to hiss in pain and tense in his arms. He gently slid them to the ground, looking up he told Tony to get a couple sheets and a blanket. Kort looked at the floor and continued to cry and shake, hoping that he'd just die sometime soon. He didn't feel the sheets or blankets Gibbs wrapped gently around him, didn't hear Gibbs telling Tony to wait upstairs for the paramedics, didn't feel Gibbs pull him into an embrace until he really let go of his pain and just screamed into the older man's shoulder.

It was the first time he had ever let anyone hold him. He didn't deserve the comfort. But he took it anyways. Greedy bastard he was, always taking what shouldn't be his. He almost laughed bitterly but instead just screamed as Gibbs tightened his hold on him.


End file.
